Deacon Paul's Homilies
Isaiah prophesied: The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shone. (Is 9:1) John the Evangelist wrote: ...the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it…(Jn 1:5) The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world (Jn 1:9) And Jesus said: ...I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life…(Jn 8:12) Beginning with Isaiah’s prophecy of the Light of Emmanuel — God-with-us — some 2,800 years ago, through to Christ’s entry into this world of darkness in Bethlehem as the Child of Light, to his ministry of Light and Life, and racing through the millennia to us today throughout the world, to us here in St. Mary’s parish, to the family whose children were baptized at St. Mary’s this past weekend: The True Light of the World, the Dayspring from on high, the One Morning Star that never sets, the Word who existed in the beginning with God and who, from the beginning, was God, Jesus Christ the Light continually breaks into the darkness of our world and dark nights of our lives. At each Christmas, in the dark night of the world, we celebrate the daybreak of the Light of Christ coming into the world. At each Easter, we celebrate the breaking forth of the Light and Life of the Resurrected Christ from the darkness of the tomb of sin and death. And at each baptism, we recall and celebrate both, as we light the baptismal candle from the Paschal candle (that is, the Christ Candle) and say to the newly baptized, “Receive the Light of Christ.” We then give the parents and godparents, but frankly all of us , a solemn charge: This light is entrusted to you to be kept burning brightly. This child…has been enlightened by Christ. [They are] to walk always as a child of the light. We are to walk not only as children of God enlightened by Christ, but we are to walk also — each one of us — as bearers of Christ and His Light into the world. We can each bear a torch of the Christ Light as we walk with one another through the dark valleys of the night of each other’s lives, illuminating the darkened path for our sisters or brothers, walking with them as long as we can, until another bearer of Christ’s Light joins us to journey with them further. Never underestimate the brightness of Christ’s Light in the smallest of actions, a kind word or simple deed. In fact, St. Mother Teresa of Kolkata counselled that the smallest of our actions may be infused with the brightest light of love. She said: Don’t look for the big things, just do small things with great love…the smaller the thing, the greater must be our love. And never forget that a light appears as its brightest in the deepest dark of night. The Christ Light in the smallest of our actions may be the brightest light in the darkest part of the night of someone's life. My sisters and brothers, the Light of Christ has been entrusted to us to be kept burning brightly, not for ourselves alone, but for the life of the world. Let us walk with one another, sharing the Christ-Light entrusted to us with each other and with the world outside the walls of this Church!
Two weeks ago, on the Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception, we heard the Gospel account of Mary receiving the news of her pregnancy from the Angel Gabriel. Today’s Gospel passage tells us the story of Joseph receiving the same news. It's not a stretch to imagine, knowing this is not his child, that he might have been filled with a range of emotions as this news settles in, with these emotions giving way to a pervasive feeling that his world — and Mary's — have been irreparably changed. Perhaps, maybe more than likely, he wrestled with this news as a weight-settled-in the-pit-of-his-stomach nameless opponent in fitful sleep until, in a dream, the Angel of the Lord appeared and named that opponent, saying, “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid .” Fear — Joseph is wrestling with fear. Fear for himself. Fear for Mary. Fear of a changed and unknown future. Joseph's fear, and the comforting by the angel of the Lord, mirror Mary’s same fear and comforting by the Angel Gabriel when she received the same news. I don’t think it's a coincidence that the Church gives us bookend accounts of the Annunciation and this parallel comforting message from God to not be afraid twice in Advent, here in these days of waning light and nights of growing darkness. Fear is part of the human condition, and God’s continual assurance to not be afraid is a testament to God’s desire for us — to be free from the shackles of fear. The most common phrase throughout Scripture is, “Be not afraid.” When I was in formation to become a deacon, I was assigned to assist as a hospital chaplain at Albany Med for a few overnights with a deacon serving as the regular overnight chaplain. One of these nights came after a blistering hot day in August. As we began our shift that evening, we gathered in the pastoral care office at Albany Med to obtain the list of patients to visit, some requesting Communion and some simply requesting a visit from the chaplain. There was the name of a woman to visit; nothing noted other than a room number. As we approached the room where we were to find this woman, the deacon I was with remarked to me offhand, “This must be a pregnancy complication. The normal pregnancies are all on lower floors.” As we entered the dimly-lit room, I immediately sensed a pervasive weight in the room: things were not alright. Accentuating the atmosphere was the spectacular electrical storm raging outside that night, lightning filling the panoramic window of the maternity room. We were introduced to the woman on our list: a young mother, her husband, their new baby girl, their first child. Here in this room in Albany Med was a Holy Family. The new mother shared that she had complications in the pregnancy and that she had developed a massive blood clot and was going into surgery the following morning. The lightning bolts arcing across the sky were like the huge red dragon described in the Book of Revelation awaiting the woman to give birth to the child; each bolt was its tail, sweeping away the stars of the night sky. It seemed the dragon was raging at this Holy Family, and as evident on their faces, raging within this Holy Family. And the dragon’s name was Fear. When we told them that we had brought Communion and asked if they wanted to receive, they were grateful and responded they very much wanted to receive. It was clear at that moment that the Presence of Christ in the Eucharist was a gift of great consolation to them, as their fears gave way to tears of relief and release. They were not alone; Jesus, Emmanuel — God is with us — was with them in the midst of the storm in their life that night and calmed their sea of fear. God was with them, just like he was with Joseph and Mary those nights some two thousand-plus years ago when the Angels of the Lord said to both of them, “Do not be afraid.” God is with us. What are the dragon-storms of our lives threatening to devour us? Do we, like Joseph and Mary, need to hear God’s message, “Do not be afraid” ? Do we need to quiet the din of our lives in order to hear God’s message? Do we need to reconnect with the peaceful presence of God in our midst, accepting God’s message, and like Mary and Joseph, entrusting our fears to God, allowing Him to displace fear in the midst of our storms? Fear does not have the last word; Jesus Christ does, he who dispels the darkness. Emmanuel — God is with us. God is with us now , and God is faithfully with us forever .
Jesus Christ never leaves us without Hope. Recently I have become acquainted with a man who shared his story that, as a young man from an abusive and drug-addicted family, he found himself on the streets, homeless, fleeing the chaos of his home life. One Sunday morning he found himself, as a homeless person, sitting on a bench outside a Catholic church during Mass. As parishioners were coming out of the church after Mass, he encountered a couple who stopped, reached out and talked with him. Noticing the homeless man did not have a coat, the husband immediately gave him his coat before they went on their way. The homeless man found himself wondering — what made that couple different from all the others he had encountered in his walk as a homeless person? As time went on, he got into a stable situation, landed a job, got married and had a family of his own, and that question in his heart from that day led him to become a Catholic himself. Today he and his wife are discerning his call to a vocation to ordained ministry as a Deacon in the Church. Jesus Christ never leaves us without Hope. The scripture and Gospel passages today contain a lot of disconcerting, and perhaps even scary, imagery regarding the end times: blazing fires, destruction of the Temple, wars, insurrections, deceit, persecutions, and death. But notice how these prophecies conclude: ” But for you who fear my name, there will arise the sun of justice with its healing rays” “...but not a hair on your head will be destroyed. By your perseverance you will secure your lives." Jesus Christ never leaves us without Hope. How fitting that we should be reminded of Hope, about Hope in the midst of the tribulations of our lives and world, as we move towards the end of this liturgical year, the Jubilee Year of Hope . It is this same Hope that Pope Leo XIV draws our attention to on this Sunday, the World Day of the Poor in his message for the day, entitled “You are my Hope.” In this message Pope Leo instructs us on the relationship between the poor, ourselves, and Hope, and of our collective responsibility to Hope. Here is what Pope Leo writes: The poor are not a distraction for the Church, but our beloved brothers and sisters, for by their lives, their words and their wisdom, they put us in contact with the truth of the Gospel. [They] can be witnesses to a strong and steadfast hope, precisely because they embody it in the midst of uncertainty, poverty, instability and marginalization. They cannot rely on the security of power and possessions; … Their hope must necessarily be sought elsewhere. God took on their poverty in order to enrich us through their voices, their stories and their faces. Every form of poverty, without exception, calls us to experience the Gospel concretely and to offer effective signs of hope. (1) Pope Leo reminds us that in encountering the poor among us, we encounter hope in Christ the Servant who washes both our feet. In serving our poor brothers and sisters — poor in whatever means — serving them in acts of charity and kindness, we find ourselves in the presence of Christ who shows us true Hope, Faith and Charity. We too are fed , washed and healed while we do the same for our brothers and sisters. While we are fed at this table of Charity, Pope Leo reminds us that we have a responsibility to serve at it. Hope is born of faith, which nourishes and sustains it on the foundation of charity, the mother of all virtues. All of us need charity, here and now. Charity is not just a promise; it is a present reality to be embraced with joy and responsibility… to offer new signs of hope that will bear witness to Christian charity… (1) We are called to the responsibility of charity: it is not an optional thing! Each act of charity is an act of kindness, compassion, mercy. Sometimes they are big acts; and sometimes they are small acts of charity in support of a big act, like contributing time or goods to our food pantry or community Thanksgiving dinner, the Giving Tree or Angel Tree party. And sometimes they are small acts of reaching out, listening, or encouragement. We can all offer those acts of charity and all of us need that charity. Do not give into the temptation that even the simplest act of charity, of kindness, is not of great value! Giving into that temptation leads us to indifference and inaction, which Pope Leo teaches “robs our [brothers and sisters] of hope.” Kindness matters! Never underestimate that your kindness, your charity, can be a lifeline of hope and light in what might be a dark moment or period in another person's life. Each little act of charity is a stone which we build into the wall of a great temple of Hope, the cornerstone and master-builder of which is Christ himself. A temple of Hope built of living stones which beckons the world into communion with the One who is Eternal Hope, Light and Life. As Jesus Christ gives us Hope, let us persevere in acts of charity and kindness, despite the tribulations of all going on around us and in us, and share that Hope with one another. (1) Pope Leo XIV. Message of the Holy Father for the 9th World Day of the Poor: You are my Hope
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Language scholars who have studied the origins of the word mammon in Hebrew and Aramaic have found clear association with words meaning wealth, riches, money, profit and possessions. But there is also evidence that one of the root words for mammon also means “that in which one trusts.” On all of our US currency — each coin and paper bill — is a simple (and, I suspect, often overlooked) phrase: “In God we trust.” This phrase was added during the Cold War to distinguish our currency, and nation, from that of the atheist Soviet Union. On each of our denominations of currency, both coins and paper bills, we have this simple reminder in whom we should be placing our trust in — God — and not what we should be placing it in: the fruit of our human activity, especially money. It is a poignant reminder to us today in light of the Gospel passage we hear and our current experience. This reminder begs us to ask two questions of ourselves and collectively as a country and society: Do we trust in God first? Always, everywhere, in everything? Or do we place our trust first in small-“g” god, or gods of human origin? In answering those questions, we might ask ourselves, what do our actions say about whether we place our trust first in God, or in humans? Where are we spending our time and treasure? This past month has brought us yet more tragic and traumatic reminders of our society’s misplaced trust. The recent spate of wounding and taking of innocent lives through gun violence in service of an ideology of retribution is just the most recent in a continuing human saga of such behavior, behavior that places trust in leading with human action to resolve differences, over our openness and trust in allowing God to lead us to a conversion of heart and to reconciliation. There is more that could be said about the responsible use of wealth in service to God. About detachment from ‘goods’ of this world — goods that God gives us out of love to draw us closer and more deeply into love with God, that we might revere God and God’s creation, but not take those goods in place of God. But in light of our continuing tragedies and the lack of reverence for human life, created by God in the image and likeness of God, of which they are clear evidence, the most important response we can offer is what St. Paul exhorts us to in his letter to Timothy, when he writes: First of all, I ask that supplications, prayers, petitions, and thanksgivings be offered for everyone, for kings and for all in authority, that we may lead a quiet and tranquil life in all devotion and dignity. This is good and pleasing to God our savior, who wills everyone to be saved and to come to knowledge of the truth. And so we will pray to God, as St Paul asks. Pray collectively for those who have suffered violence in all forms against humanity. We will pray collectively for those wounded, those who have lost their lives and their families. And then perhaps most difficult of all, we will pray for those who perpetrated this violence, and all who are tempted to perpetrate violence against humanity. We should be challenged in our prayers to pray for people we don’t want to pray for. We may find the heart that is converted is our own. In all these prayers we place our trust first and foremost in God, who desires to save us, and who “proves his love for us in that while we were yet sinners Christ died for us” (Rom 5:8). In this is our act of Faith. In this is our act of Hope.
There is a widely-held truth of Christianity that is expressed in the statement, “There is no such thing as being a Christian in isolation.” It has also been expressed as, “There is no such thing as being a solitary Christian.” The fundamental reason that there is no such thing as being a solitary Christian or being Christian in isolation is that God, the God of our Christian faith, is a God of relationship — a God in relationship! That relationship is what we celebrate today in the Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity: God the Father, God the Son, God the Holy Spirit — one God, three persons — each with unique roles in relationship to one another: God the Creator, God the Redeemer, God the Sanctifier. If, therefore, the God we believe in — the God we profess, the God that we worship and pray to, the God we trust in — is fundamentally a God of and in relationship, it follows that we, who are created in the image and likeness of that God of and in relationship, cannot express what we believe , cannot BE what we profess by being what our God is not: Christians in isolation; solitary Christians. We say that God is Love, and so God is. We sometimes identify the Persons of our Triune God — Father, Son and Holy Spirit — as the Lover, the Beloved, and the Love between them . There is a mutual indwelling of the three persons of the Holy Trinity, and mutual giving and receiving in which each shares and receives all that they are with each other. This expression of love of the Holy Trinity is communion . And it is the highest aim of the Love of God to draw us into the life of love of the Holy Trinity that is that communion. The Church teaches that “the dignity of [humanity] rests above all [emphasis added] on the fact that [we] are called to communion with God” (Catechism #27). That is why today is of such high importance among our days of worship that we deem it a solemnity — The Solemnity of the Most Holy Trinity. Above all , we are called to communion with God. In the first reading we hear that the Wisdom of God, the Holy Spirit, “was poured forth before the earth...playing on the surface of God’s earth” and the Spirit of God says, “ and I found delight in the human race." Our responsorial psalm, Psalm 8, reminds us that we are made “little less than the angels, and crowned with glory and honor.” These verses signal that we are created for communion with our creator. In the second reading St. Paul tells us that “ the love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit.” That sounds like communion, doesn’t it? Indeed, the very incarnation of Christ is the manifestation of our God coming out to us to draw us into the life of the Trinity! Therefore, if we are called into communion with God, then we, as the Body of Christ, are called into communion with each other . The very indwelling-dance of love of the Holy Trinity that we are invited and drawn into, invites — and also urges — that we go out and draw others into this dance of love. That's what the communion of our God does. That's what the love of our God is. The love of God poured into our hearts, as communion with the Holy Trinity, is to be poured forth from our hearts into this world in imitation of our Triune God: in little acts of love as simple as reaching out to make a connection to someone to let them know you were thinking about them, and greater acts of love through service that gather us, feed us, caring for each other in mind, body, and spirit; acts of mercy. For we are not Christians in isolation. And we cannot be Christians in isolation.
How many of you recall the following hymn refrain? Misericordes sicut Pater Misericordes sicut Pater… It is the refrain from the hymn of the same title that was composed for the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, which Pope Francis opened in the first week of Advent in 2015 and concluded with the feast of Christ the King on November 20, 2016. You may recall that throughout that Jubilee Year, we opened our Masses with that hymn and sang that refrain. Misericordes sicut Pater… …Merciful like the Father …Merciful like the Father. How appropriate that on this Sunday, the second Sunday of Easter, Divine Mercy Sunday, is also the weekend in which we have laid our Holy Father Pope Francis to rest, and entrusted him to the tender, eternal mercy of God the Father. It was no coincidence that Pope Francis declared the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy. Pope Francis believed Mercy is the primary expression and experience of God’s love for us, and Mercy is the primary expression and experience of the love that God calls us to share with each other. So important was his belief and trust in God’s Mercy, that when he was ordained to the order of Bishop, he took as his episcopal motto “ miserando atque eligendo ” ( which roughly translates from Latin as “having mercy, he chose him”). It is taken from a homily written by St. Bede the Venerable, an eighth-century saint and Doctor of the Church, reflecting on the call of St. Matthew by Christ to become an apostle. St. Bede wrote, “[Jesus] saw the tax collector [Matthew] and, because he saw him through the eyes of mercy and chose him, he said to him: Follow me .” So important was his belief and trust in God’s Mercy, that when Francis was elected as Pope, he kept this episcopal motto as his papal motto. This motto expresses so simply and beautifully truths of our faith: God loves us deeply; God expresses that love to us through His mercy for us in our sinfulness; and that despite our sinfulness, God calls us . God calls us to trust and hope in God’s love for us and calls us to express the same love and mercy for one another. That call is reflected also in the Gospel account of Matthew’s call to discipleship by Jesus, which concludes with Jesus challenging the Pharisees, saying “Go and learn the meaning of the words, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice'” (Mt. 9:13). Jesus challenges us in the same way. He calls the Pharisees – and us – out of ritual acts of worship and piety that are not also accompanied by acts of mercy! Jesus is clear about this. In the Gospel according to Luke, Jesus says, “Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful” (Lk. 6:36). In his Papal Bull announcing the Extraordinary Year of Mercy, Pope Francis describes God the Father’s mercy for us as like “that of a father or a mother, moved to the very depths out of love for their child…a “visceral” love…gush[ing] forth from the depths naturally, full of tenderness and compassion, indulgence and mercy” (Misericordiae Vultus, no. 6). He also describes God’s Divine Mercy as a ”wellspring of joy, serenity, and peace.” (MV 2). These words bring to mind the visceral atoning sacrifice of Christ on the cross for our sins, when blood and water sprung forth from Christ’s side as the cleansing waters of baptism. It is that visceral sacrifice which we recall in the Divine Mercy chaplet when we pray, “O Blood and Water which gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus as a fount of mercy for us, I trust in You!” It is that cleansing sacrifice that we recall when we pray in the Anima Christi prayer, “Water from the side of Christ, wash me.” And it is that same merciful cleansing in which we hope and trust, as we place all that burdens us into the waters of God’s grace, as we have done here, symbolically, in placing our Lenten stone-burdens in this fountain of Holy Water from the Easter Vigil Baptismal pool. As we contemplate God’s Divine Mercy, we place our trust and our hope in that Divine Mercy, recalling the words our late Holy Father Pope Francis left us with: “Mercy will always be greater than any sin, and no one can place limits on the love of God who is ever ready to forgive” (MV 3); “Mercy [is] the bridge that connects God and man, opening our hearts to the hope of being loved forever” (MV 2). Misericordes sicut Pater Misericordes sicut Pater…
I have long thought that the Church gives us the two Gospel passages we hear today — the account of Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem and the account of his Passion and death — for very practical reasons: this is the last Sunday before Easter when we will celebrate Christ’s Resurrection and not everyone is able to attend and celebrate the Triduum liturgies during Holy Week. Therefore, the Church places these two critical Gospel passages together so that we hear and experience them in a regular Sunday Mass setting — literally, to ‘fit them in’ before Easter. But there is another equally, if not more, important reason we are to experience these Gospel passages together. And I honestly don’t know if the Church intends this reason or not, but I believe the Holy Spirit intends it. These two Gospel passages remind us as much as any passage that Jesus Christ, while fully Divine, is also fully human. He is like us in all manner except one, in committing sin. He therefore shares with us the experience of the full range of our humanity. In these two Gospel passages we experience Christ moving from triumph to tragedy, from soaring to suffering: the triumphant, soaring entry into Jerusalem and the suffering and tragedy of His Passion and crucifixion. Christ’s human experience is also our human experience, for do not we all experience triumph and tragedy, soaring and suffering? Therefore, we do not have a God and Savior who cannot sympathize with our human experience, but rather one who shares it with us! And we have a God and Savior who not only soared and suffered for us, but soars and suffers with us. Not just two thousand years ago, but right here, right now, in every minute of our lives. For what did Jesus promise? “I am with you always , until the end of time.” (Mt 28:20) When we soar and triumph, Jesus is with us, by our side. And when we suffer and experience tragedy, especially, Jesus is with us, by our side. We are encouraged to give thanks to God in our triumphs and soaring. And we are invited to unite our suffering with Christ’s suffering and offer it up for whatever or whomever is in need. Christ’s suffering was not pointless, and united to His, neither is ours. We offer it up, trust, and hope. Sisters and brothers, that hope comes from our knowledge of the rest of the Gospel story that we will experience with Christ: that His triumph and tragedy, His soaring and suffering does not end in death, but in the glory of Easter Resurrection.
Man of Sorrows , William Dyce, ca. 1860
I have a question for you: Did Jesus Christ need to be baptized? Approaching this question academically, knowing that Baptism is one of seven sacraments the Church recognizes, we might begin to answer that by asking, “What is a sacrament?” The classic definition of a sacrament is that it is an outward (that is, a visible) sign, instituted by Christ, to convey God’s grace for our sanctification — to help us grow in holiness. So does it make sense that Jesus Christ would receive a sacrament instituted by himself to convey God’s grace when he is already fully divine — God the Son? Yeah, doesn’t make much sense, does it? And on top of that, if we consider that one of the primary sacramental effects of Baptism is the forgiveness of all sin, both original sin and personal sin, and we consider that Jesus Christ, fully divine and at the same time fully human , is like us in all things except sin, then Christ has no need to be baptized to receive this sacramental effect! So pulling those few strands of logic together, I think we can conclude that Jesus does not need to be baptized for the reasons that you and I need to be baptized! …But does Jesus Christ need to be baptized… for our sake ? That is a different, and interesting, question. Today we hear from Luke’s version of the Baptism narrative, but in Matthew’s version, when John the Baptist questions whether he is worthy to baptize Christ, Jesus says “Allow it now ... to fulfill all righteousness” (Mt 3:15). Considering the definition of a sacrament I gave you a few moments ago — that a sacrament is a visible sign instituted by Christ — some theologians and Church Fathers point to Christ’s own Baptism as that very institution, or at least the beginning of the institution of the Sacrament! By physically entering into the waters of the Jordan, and by extension the waters of all the earth, Christ blesses them and sanctifies them, that they may in turn become the matter of our sanctification in Baptism. Each of the seven Sacraments of the Church has form and matter: the form consists of the words and actions of the sacrament, and the matter is the substance or prerequisite for the sacrament. Water is the matter for the Sacrament of Baptism. So in a manner, Christ needs to be baptized to establish the sacramental matter and form of Baptism for our benefit. He leads the way for us, that we may watch, listen, and follow him, leading the way by having himself baptized. Interestingly, we re-present Christ’s sanctifying entry into the waters of the Jordan at his Baptism at each Easter Vigil before we baptize our adult candidates when we dip the large Paschal candle, the Christ candle, into the waters of the Baptismal font three times — Father, Son, Holy Spirit — Christ again blessing them, making them holy, making them the matter for Baptism, the matter of our sanctification, symbolic of our cleansing from sin through Christ. There is another connection to the waters of Baptism and the sacramental effects of Baptism that is pointed to in the imagery of Luke’s Gospel we heard today: it is the descent of the Holy Spirit from heaven “… like a dove .” The dove reminds us of the action of the Holy Spirit, literally the breath of God upon the waters of the earth at the dawn of creation, bringing forth new life. The Holy Spirit descends upon Christ, revealing him as the new creation of humanity. Jesus Christ — God the Son, the Word of God — became flesh, became one of us, that we might become a new creation in Him . In Baptism we die to our old human nature of sin and its consequences that lead to perpetual separation from God and one another. In the waters of Baptism we are united to Christ’s death, with our sins washed and buried in the waters of Baptism. And from the birth-waters of Baptism we rise with Christ, sharing in His Resurrection to new life, united to Christ forever, sharing in Christ’s divine nature. We invoke this symbolism, and our faith, not only at each Baptism, but each time we bless ourselves with holy water, and at each funeral, when we sprinkle the casket or urn with holy water and pray: “In the waters of Baptism [person] died with Christ and rose with Him to new life. May he/she now share with Christ eternal glory.” We symbolize this new creation we have become through Baptism with the white garment that is donned following the Baptismal rite. Infants are traditionally dressed in white outfits. Here at St. Mary’s, we use white garments for infants, hand-made by parishioners, itself beautifully symbolic of the child joining and being welcomed by our parish Christian community. Baptized adults don a white alb, similar to what Fr. Chris and I wear under our vestments. The white garment is symbolic of the newly-Baptized having put on Christ and risen with him. St. Gregory Nazianzus, a fourth-century bishop and Doctor of the Church, also taught that the white clothing of Christ also veils our shame, the wound of our sin. Baptized and resurrected with Christ, the sin is gone, but we bear the scars, just as the Resurrected Christ bore the wounds of His crucifixion. God’s rich love and mercy are poured out upon us as salvation and grace through the Holy Trinity in the Sacrament of Baptism. There is nothing we do to merit or earn this salvation: it is God’s free gift, poured out upon us. This is what St. Paul spoke of in his letter to Titus: …not because of any righteous deeds we had done but because of his mercy, He saved us through the bath of rebirth and renewal by the Holy Spirit, whom he richly poured out on us through Jesus Christ our savior. (Titus 3:5-6) We are only called to seek, accept, and cooperate with God’s grace in leading a holy life. In Baptism we are incorporated into Christ and configured to Christ, marked with an indelible spiritual mark upon our soul, that claims us as belonging to Christ. And once we have been claimed by Christ, we can never be unclaimed.
